The Invisible Black Woman

Let’s keep it a buck.

Some of us have attached our worth to outcomes for so long that every “no” feels like a personal indictment. Didn’t get the job? Maybe you weren’t good enough. Didn’t get picked? Maybe you weren’t impressive enough. Didn’t get the callback, the promotion, the opportunity, the relationship, the seat, the invitation? Suddenly your brain starts conducting a full-blown audit on your value like you’re the problem that needs solving.

And let me tell you something right now: The answer changed the outcome. It did not change your worth. Those are not the same thing. Not now, not ever.

Because sometimes the answer is no because the room was too small. Sometimes the answer is no because people are committed to familiarity over excellence. Sometimes the answer is no because they already decided who they were comfortable choosing before you even walked in. And sometimes the answer is no because what’s meant for you requires a different door entirely.

But the way we internalize rejection? Especially as Black women? We will turn one unanswered email into a full dissertation on why we should never try again. Just me? Oh, mmkay. 

And that’s the part I need us to work on. Because your value cannot keep rising and falling based on other people’s ability to recognize it. That’s too much power to hand over to folks who barely know themselves, let alone you.

Now don’t get me wrong. Rejection still stings. We’re not about to sit here and pretend it doesn’t. Sometimes it hurts because you wanted the thing. You prayed over the thing. You prepared for the thing. You saw yourself in the thing. And when it doesn’t happen, it can feel deeply personal.

But one thing I’ve learned the hard way is that disappointment and diminishment are not the same thing.

You can be disappointed and still be valuable. You can be overlooked and still be exceptional. You can hear “no” and still be fully worthy of every room you’ve ever dreamed of entering.

Sometimes the answer is simply information. Redirection. Protection. Clarification. Sometimes the answer reveals more about the limitations of the environment than it does about the person seeking entry into it.

And let’s talk workplace for a second because, ummmm… corporate America loves to make people feel like their title determines their worth. Didn’t get promoted? Suddenly you start second-guessing your intelligence. Didn’t get chosen for the project? Now you’re questioning your talent. Meanwhile, half the people making decisions are operating off politics, favoritism, comfort, bias, and vibes. Vibes, y’all, or just drinking they own kool-aid.

And somehow you’re over there spiraling like your value evaporated because somebody in a leadership meeting picked someone they’d rather grab drinks with after work. No ma’am.

The answer does not change your value. Read that again. Slowly this time. Just in case, imma say it one mo again for the folks in the back: The answer does not change your value. 

Because your worth was established long before somebody decided whether or not to validate it. And honestly? Some of the greatest glow-ups happen right after rejection. Right after the closed door. Right after the thing you thought you needed fell apart.

So feel your feelings. Be disappointed if you need to be. Take the night. Eat the snacks. Call your friend. Have your little “what the hell?” moment. Then get back up. Because one thing about your value? It was never on trial to begin with.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no  less fictitious than the undeniable force you are.